


Happy Birthday

by AkelaKela



Series: Bollywood One-Shots [5]
Category: Bollywood - Fandom, Brothers (2015)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Bollywood, Bollywood Movies - Freeform, Brothers (2015) - Freeform, Childhood Trauma, Death/Hurt, Gen, Minor Character Death, Monty has issues, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, and he won't let anyone in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:49:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkelaKela/pseuds/AkelaKela
Summary: Monty hasn't enjoyed his birthdays in a long time.





	Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Another Hindi movie fic bc I love Monty and he deserved better than what David gave him.

 The days melted by, one into the other. David was vigilant, checking up on him every now and then. He had offered to house his little brother but Monty had adamantly refused. As long as the sling was still on he could hide his shaking hands behind the drugs he was supposed to be taking. The expensive drugs he was supposed to be taking.

The pill bottles sat innocently on the medicine cabinet shelf, the large labels hiding a secret that shouldn't be difficult to keep. He had lived alone for so long. Monty couldn't see what was wrong with taking half the dosage he was supposed to. With his chances of fighting in the near future slim, his savings were dipping low. His cheap booze did a decent job of taking the edge off the pain.

He remembered the first time he had tasted alcohol.

It was his seventeeth birthday and he had just worked up the courage to touch the glass bottle in front of him. Thoughts raced through his head and he swiped his thick forelock of hair away from his forehead. The air around him was thick and heavy, weighing down on his shoulders and face, blanketing him. He reached out his hand, unable to hide the slight tremor in his wrist and fingers before he wrapped it around the bottle. He had done this once before.

Play-acting as his father, before David had wrested the empty liquor bottle from his small hands and cuffed him over the back of the head.

David.

Monty felt his face harden and he tipped his head back, taking a gulp of the burning booze. He spluttered, coughing before ducking his head low and muffling his coking with his hand. The burn in his throat had shaken him. The smell of the dark liquid in his hand was sickening. 

It was a man bursting through the doors of a small house. It was a drunk man staggering to the table, pretending he was sober. It was a look of unbridled disgust on his brother's face. It was a shriek and tears and a broken heart and him wiping his mother's blood from the floor two days later. It was him breaking down in tears as he scrubbed all that was left of her from the house, his tears staining everything as he packed away her dresses in a box and hid her bangles in a drawer.

Monty took another drink. And another. And another.

He didn't know, couldn't remember how. But he had come to blows with a man in that bar, his restraint on his fists dissolved by the alcohol sloshing around his brain.

The last blow was what had scared him. The man had crumpled under his fist, spinning halfway with a yell before collapsing to the ground. For a what must only have been a few seconds, Monty stood over him as the ground was pulled from beneath his feet. He had killed him. It felt like hours. When he came to himself he was shaking the prone man's shoulders, begging him to _wake up_ before he was dragged away. 

For days the memories roared, fresh in his mind. The sharp pain of his mother's shriek, the speed with which she'd fallen. 

Her eyes as she called him to her.

And the hatred in his brother's as he pushed him away.

So he drank. He drank more and more. He drank until he was drunk and couldn't see two feet in front of him. He drank until he couldn't hear his own voice. When he drank he could sleep and when he slept he wouldn't dream.

When he slept he couldn't see the ghosts of himself, his past or his future. 

When he drank he could forget the demons all around him, in every fibre of himself and his house and his heart.

When he woke up he would hate himself. He would hate the stink of bootleg in the house or a broken bottle on the floor. He would hate the monster he saw in the mirror, beholden to the very thing that had shattered his life around him. 

He was eighteen when he swore himself off it, vowing silently to never put the alcohol past his lips again.

He lasted a day before the fever broke out, sweat beading his forehead. Two before his hands shook too badly to sign his name. His resolved was crumbling by the third when he staggered back into the house at his usual hour. His mother stood in the doorway of the bedroom, next to the bed, a tray between her hands. He took in the glass of milk and the plate of biscuits as he went cold with fear. His shaking hands clenched, the palms clammy and wet.

Tears shone on her cheeks and she beckoned him, holding the tray higher as he stood dumbly, watching her. Monty watched her shoulders heave with a suppressed sob and he took a step towards her, and another and another until he was a few yards away. The moment he stepped through the doorway, she was gone. 

A shaky breath ripped itself from his lungs. He'd wanted to once, just once, hold her and thank her for everything. For the ten years of his life that she'd lived, for the ten happiest years he'd ever known.

Even if he had to watch it all over again. Even if he had to watch the life being ripped from her body, he would tell her. 

The darkened room spun in front of his eyes and he felt his entire body go rigid before his head struck the bedpost and everything went black.

 He didn't know how long t had been when he woke. He spat the blood from his bitten tongue onto the floor beside him and took in his surroundings. His brain felt fuzzy and it took him some moments to remember the most basic details of his life.

He looked around, his body still too weak to drag itself onto the bed.

He lay right there, just inside the doorway, blood smeared around his face and head, one arm stretched through the open doorway into the night beyond. Thunder crashed beyond the open window and rain poured down.

Birthdays were a curse, he decided, lying there on the cold floor. 

His first; a mistake for which his father never ceased to apologise for his entire life. The one person who had made them that little bit special had been snatched from him on his birthday. He could feel the hole in his chest as though he'd cut out his own heart.

Monty Fernandes lay on the floor where his mother had died and began to cry. Wishing he could join her.

On the night of his nineteenth birthday, he had learned his lesson.

He drank himself into a stupor, until the date on the calendar in front of the table no longer glared at him.

When the night was over and his hangover woke him from his slumped position over the table, the black numbers on the paper had no power. The whispers in the walls were silenced and he slept off the throbbing in his head on the couch.

The surprise had been Jenny's idea. David had been doubtful about his brother but his daughter's pleading and promises didn't take long to win him over.

He convinced Monty to come over for dinner, wincing when he took in the dark circles under his eyes and immobilised left arm. He was quiet for most of the meal, smiling politely at Jenny when she seated him in the living room. 

He seemed to have tried his best; his was wearing a shirt that looked as though he'd ironed it himself over his t shirt and his pants looked new. A black sling held his left arm close to his body, straps wrapping around his torso and over right shoulder. he hadn't touched the bottles hidden around the house since yesterday, not wanting to get carried away and show up to David's house drunk. He was already feeling the effects. His head throbbed and not wincing in pain was a humongous effort.

"Uncle Monty!" Maria skipped into the living room and plopped down on the couch next to him and threw an arm up around his right arm.  The movement jarred his left shoulder and Monty stiffened, badly hiding a wince. She peppered him with questions, ranging from his shoulder to his earring and everything in between. She didn't give him much time to answer them which suited his monosyllabic replies perfectly.

They sat down to eat around the small dining table. David watched his brother balance his spoon in one hand, sitting uncharacteristically straight so as to not shift his shoulder, he was silently grateful that Jenny had thought to make soup, easily edible with one utensil. 

Monty seemed to open his mouth to say something, think better of it and stop a few times before Jenny effortlessly pulled him into conversation.

"How is uncle?" She smiled across the table at him and her husband carefully watched his reaction. He raised his head, eyebrows raised slightly in a moment of confusion as though he hadn't expected any conversation to be directed his way.

"Dad's fine." His voice, deeper and more scratched than David remembered always threw him off. Monty had been the crying, broken fifteen year old that he'd blamed for all the ills of the world for most of his adult life. It shocked him to watch the man in front of him, the chasm of lost years between them yawning, deeper and darker than ever. The little brother that he could read in seconds was gone. A grown man sat in front of him today, his scarred face and clouded eyes closed to the world.

He raised his water glass to his mouth, his hand shaking before he took a quick sip and replaced the glass and hid his hand beneath the table.

"Uski health tori si kharab hai." _"He isn't feeling too well."_   Monty's eyes immediately dropped back to the tablecloth and he picked up his spoon, moving his food around the plate without actually eating much of it.

"Please, aur lo! I made so much." Jenny giggled, offering the gravy to Monty again. He declined, but a few more bites of food passed his lips before dinner was over. "And please! David ke saath shopping pe chalo. Mujhe kuch zaroori kaam hai and David ke kapre bohot purane ho gaye! Upar se uska taste hai hi aisa." _"And please! Go shopping with David tomorrow. I have something to do and David's clothes are so old! On top of that, you know his taste."_ She made a face and David feigned indignance, watching Monty from the corner of his eye. Pressing his lips together, clearly faking an unpracticed smile, he nodded and David raised an eyebrow at his daughter across the table before she broke into victory dance.

Monty sat in the passenger seat of his brother's car, his eyes closed as thunder rolled in the skies above. His body was too tense for him to be sleeping, David could see his eyes moving behind their closed lids. The shopping trip had gone reasonably well, but Monty had only looked worse and worse as the minutes ticked by. His hands were trembling so badly that he'd just shoved the right one in his pocket and left it there until they were back in the car.

The car approached their childhood home and Monty's eyes opened, a shaking hand passing over his sweat-beaded brow it came into view. David passed him a small shopping bag with some of Maria's clothes in it, having long learned the punishment of trying to 'coddle' him.

They stepped through the door and the shopping bag in Monty's hand hit the floor. His eyes went wide as the colour leached from his face.

Gary was standing by the kitchen table, smiling tentatively. His head turned to the left and Monty saw.

In front of them Jenny stood in the dark hallway, a cake between her hands. The lighted sparkler atop it lit up hers and Maria's faces. 

"Happy Birthday!" She smiled at him and David turned, already knowing just a few precious seconds too late.

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked, Monty's face twisting as he took in the scene in front of him. The date on the yellowed tear-away calendar that hadn't been tacked to the wall in years was cruelly black against the thin paper. Jenny's face was no longer her own. An older woman smiled at him, a cake in her hands. She smiled and Monty could feel it rip the sky from above his head and the ground from beneath his feet.

The ghosts of memories hissed from the walls, their whispers getting louder and louder in his ears. 

"Monty?" David put a hand on his arm.

He went white, standing stock still. David looked from him to Jenny as the smile began to slip from her face. Gary acted immediately, striding towards his younger son and grabbing him by the shoulder. Monty didn't move, his eyes staring unfocused behind his father at Jenny. Gary shook him and his body limply jerked forward, his lips parted in shock.

He flinched when the thunder that crashed outside as though he'd been slapped. His eyes, wild with an emotion David couldn't read swept over all of them before he shouldered past his father into the room beyond. Jenny turned, rushing into the bedroom and setting the cake down on a side table. David ran after them, his shoes slamming onto the hard cement floor loudly. The bathroom door slammed shut and he threw himself against it, pounding the flimsy wood with his fists. 

"Monty, darwaza khol. Please, darwaza khol." He begged. There was silence and Gary spoke from right behind him. 

"I'm sorry beta, please darwaza khol. Answer me." 

There was no sound.

Monty stared at himself in the mirror, his blurring vision taking in his reflection before he ripped open the medicine cabinet with his free hand. The pill bottles tumbled into the sink and to the floor, revealing a bottle of liquor. He uncapped it with his teeth, bringing it to his lips desperately before he felt his entire body spasm, his hand going rigid as he fell backwards, the bottle slipping through his useless fingers and smashing on the tiles below.

The entire family heard the crash through the door and David through his entire body against the door, smashing through the flimsy lock. Monty lay at his feet in the tiny bathroom, stretched out on his face on the floor. David rushed to him, flipping him over onto his back. There was blood running from a cut above his eyebrow and his nose. His eyes were closed, his body jerking and twitching violently. 

His brother grabbed him from behind, arms wrapping around his neck and chest as he convulsed, blood dripping from his mouth into his short beard. He and the rest of them took in the scene before them; smashed pill bottles and broken glass in a puddle of dark liquid, Monty unconscious and jerking until he finally stilled. Gary was beside him the entire time, his shaking hands smacking his face, begging him to open his eyes and say something.

David could feel his own eyes misting as his daughter hid her face in her mother's skirt and tears rolled down Jenny's cheeks. 

He held his brother close, feeling his breaths push his chest up and down. He was silent, focusing on the pulse, the one sign that his brother was still alive. His dad's head was lowered, his hands clasping Monty's good arm between them. His tears dripped over the limp scarred fingers and his sobs wracked his body.

Monty came to in his brother's arms on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. 

Before he fully returned to his senses, his stomach heaved and David held him over the toilet as he vomited, his head spinning, his own limbs like jelly.

"Tereko kya huwa?" Gary's voice was shaky, his eyes clouded, lip trembling.

Monty opened his mouth to speak and retched over the toilet again instead. it was some minute before he could speak again, the cold rim of a water glass held to his lips as he slumped sideways on the bed, propped up against the headboard by pillows. Pain spiked from his shoulder through his body, into his head making him feel even sicker. He must have hit it hard during his fall. 

Maria hid at the periphery of his vision, her hands nervously twisting the hem of her pink t shirt as her mother bustled about the kitchen and bathroom as his older brother and father fussed over him. 

They sponged the blood from his face and head, Maria even stealing close to him and slipping her hand through his. his fingers twitched and he squeezed back for a fleeting moment before Gary bent down, taking his son's face in his hands.

"Tereko kya huwa Monty?" _"What happened to you Monty?"_ His voice shook as he stroked the man's stubbly cheek. Monty could see the tears in his eyes.

"Isne dawai lena chor diya." David strode out of the bathroom. Leaning against the doorframe, he held up three of the yellow pill bottles. His eyes were hard, glittering in the darkness as the rain began to fall outside. The anger in his tone colder than the wind whipping through the window chilled Monty.

"Nahi, nahi." _"No, no."_  His voice betrayed him, trembling and cracking before he raised a hand to his mouth to suppress the coughs. "Dawai mehenga hai. Main half-half karke leta hoon." _"It's expensive. I take half the dosage."_  He choked out between coughs, his hand shaking as he scrubbed the dangling strands of hair away from his sweaty forehead. 

A fighter. A fighter in the most dangerous rings across the country reduced to this. 

"Aur bakaya dose? Daaru?" _"And the rest? Booze?"_ His brother sounded like he was going to kill someone and Monty began to wish it could be him. He just nodded, his eyes dropping to his lap. He wrapped his arm around himself, wedging his hand under his useless left arm.

"Goddamnit Monty, look at me!" David dashed the plastic bottles to the floor, the sound of them hitting it ringing over and over in his ears before his head was jerked up.

David had caught the collar of his ancient shirt in his fist, his eyes fiery as he glared into his brother's warm brown eyes. "I can't lose you too. Not again. Mujhse baat tau kar." He begged.

And then Monty was angry. Angry again, because apologies can't bridge the years and years of loneliness and guilt he knows and he spits out the words without thinking."Aaj mera birthday hai. Aaj maa margayi thi." _"It's my birthday today. Mom died today."_ The unspoken 'because of me' hung heavy in the air. 

'Yeh sab teri wajah se huwa!' _'This is all because of you!'_ David heard his own words fill his mouth and fly at his younger brother. Again, the saw the tears thicken in those eyes before his mother tried, tried to reach him.

Monty's face, inches from his own was set into a mask. A mask that was cemented back into place as soon as it crumbled the slightest bit. The only cracks visible began around his eyes. From the tears filling them.

As he stared into them, David felt something snap into place. The scarred heart beneath his brother's tough exterior. The self-destructive, punished brother that had done no wrong. He didn't have to hear the words to see the stories flashing behind Monty's eyes. It was bitter loneliness that shone through.


End file.
